Old Habits Die Hard
by l0velyfe
Summary: It's been 3 years since Nat last saw Rave. New hair, new job, new... Fiancé? Nat's not one to give up so easily, oh no, he's persistent. But can he win Rave back? [Nave, rated M for language and future smut]
1. Chapter One

_I decided to try my hand at writing a Nave  
that's been developing in my head for  
quite a while now. This story has nothing  
to do with The Double-D Dare verse._

_Rave belongs to Kirakurry and Nat belongs  
to CandyAcid! Enjoy~!_

* * *

**Old Habits Die Hard**

_Chapter One_

_Written by l0velyfe_

* * *

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Nat grinned smugly, leaning his elbow on the marble counter as the busty blonde giggled flirtatiously. She fell for Nat's charm – as expected – hook, line and sinker. After downing her _Cosmo_, she pulled him out onto the floor. They danced; she grinded against him, he groped, she whispered dirty nothings into his ear over the beat of the music. Admittedly, Nat was disappointed when she left for the bathroom without him, but he figured he would score tonight nonetheless. And he had to confess; sex at home in his own bed was better than a blowjob in a cramped bathroom stall. Nat was quite satisfied with himself, having picked up such a hot babe without his right-wing man. Kevin would have come along, had he not been so busy with Double Dee. Nat brushed the twinge of jealousy off. He wasn't really into the whole relationship scene anyway. Why deal with all the emotional trauma when he could just have sex and say goodbye in the morning?

He sat at one of the tables, lazily sipping his _Sex on the Beach_, eyes roaming around the bar. He came to this place often – not as often as other places, but often enough to recognize the regulars. It had been a week since his last visit, though; mid-terms had come and gone now, and he was halfway through the first semester of his senior year. At the lethal age of 21, he no longer had to fake his ID to get into bars. It was a Friday night, and a whole weekend of freedom lay ahead of him.

"Hey handsome."

Nat grinned at the blonde, sipping his drink as she sat down and began to ramble on about her roommate. Nat nodded when prompted, half-listening as he eyes drifted across the bar freely.

A double-take was in order. There, across the bar and behind the counter, was a lanky brunet. Nat continued to stare. The hair was wrong; it was longer with streaks of teal, and back in a ponytail that curled around his neck to lie on the front of his shoulder. The stance was somewhat familiar. But there was no mistaking the scowl upon his face. Nat studied him for another minute, watching the fluidity of his movements and the annoyed expression that crossed his face when a customer made a comment directed at him, obviously flirting.

"You wait here, babe. As soon as I get back, we can blow this joint."

Leaving the blonde contented with her fruity drink, Nat crossed the dance floor, weaving between swaying bodies. Much to his liking, the brunet didn't notice his approach. He was busy mixing another drink, eyes downcast. Nat stalked up to the counter and leaned against it coolly.

"Let's you and me start a _**rave**_, yeah?"

Grabbing the bottle of Cognac, Rave poured it into the glass aggressively, livid. Fucking relentless assholes that had nothing better to do than harass the bartender. He had half a mind to add a dash of arsenic to the shithead's drink. _'Too bad I don't have any.'_

It was at that moment when he felt a presence in front of him, at the bar. He prepared for another dumbass pick-up line, and one certainly came, but it was not the same voice. This voice was familiar, yet Rave could not place it right away. At the sound of his nickname – a name no one here knew – his head snapped up.

And who would be standing there at the bar but Nathan _fucking_ Goldberg.

He was maybe an inch taller, now eye-to-eye with Rave. His sense of style really hadn't changed; he wore a disgustingly bright pair of red skinny jeans and a white V-neck shirt, complete with pure white Converse. His hair was roughly the same length – and, of course, the same obnoxious fucking color. He'd pierced his left eyebrow since Rave had seen him last... How long had it been, exactly? Three years?

"Goldberg." The same monotone, same bored and slightly agitated expression. Nat grinned. _'Some things never change.'_ "What the fuck are you doing in my bar?"

"Your bar? Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you'd bought the place." A lazy smirk perched itself upon his lips, and Rave grit his teeth. The fuckface was mocking him. "I've been here lots of times in the past few months and I ain't never seen you here."

"That's because I just started working here, numbnuts," he snapped, sliding drinks across the counter for the waitress to take to the floor. "Better pay than the coffee shop."

"So," Nat tapped his chin, "you're a student by day and a bartender by night. Sounds like a lot of work."

"What's it to you?" Rave hissed, growing tired of Nathan's persistent, probing questions.

"Aw, come on, James. I'm just tryin' to catch up with an old friend..."

"We haven't spoken for three fucking years, Goldberg. Why start now?"

The harsh words and tone combined with the glare shot his way made Nat wince. He was silent for a moment after that, watching Rave mix various drinks. Golden-brown eyes lifted to him questioningly. Why was he still here? With an exasperated sigh, Rave nodded his head in a direction across the floor.

"Your girlfriend's leaving."

Nat turned to look over his shoulder. The blonde, evidently tired of waiting, took the offered hand of a tall-dark-and-handsome and followed him to the floor. Nat turned back, smirking.

"She's not my girlfriend. Just someone I was gonna take home."

Rave's lip curled in distaste as he wiped the counter clean of a few spilled drops of alcohol. When he made no further comment, Nat decided to venture out on a limb.

"You got a girlfriend?"

A sour chuckle slipped from his lips. "Yes. His name is Samuel."

Nat smirked slightly_. 'Shoulda seen that comin'.' _"How long've you been seeing him?"

"We've been engaged for six months."

Nat wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it definitely wasn't **that**. _'Ouch.'_ Yeah, maybe Rave had always been there in the back of his mind, and yeah, maybe he'd always had some gay fantasy that they would eventually meet each other, hook up again, and live happily ever after_. 'Plan B. What's Plan B? Fuck.'_

"Well, we should meet up sometime. Have coffee or something."

Rave lifted lustrous eyes, examining the teal-haired man, and Nat prepared himself for a violent rejection. It never came. Instead, Rave sighed and snatched a napkin, then pulled a pen from the pocket of his apron. Nat leaned over the counter, trying to see what Rave was scribbling. The brunet shoved the napkin in his face, and Nat scrambled to grab it before it fluttered to the ground. Ten digits were written on the white paper.

"Call me whenever. I'm off on Sundays and Mondays."

The coy expression on Rave's face could have just been Nat's imagination, but he let himself have the moment of belief.

"See ya, Princess."

Leaving a probably-seething Rave at the counter, Nat turned and sauntered to the exit of the bar. Truth be told, he owed that tall guy his thanks, because now, he didn't think he could stand having anyone else in his bed but a certain snarky brunet.


	2. Chapter Two

_Here's chapter two~ _

_It's a tad bit shorter than I wanted, but  
I'm pleased with how it turned out, and I  
hope you guys are too! _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Old Habits Die Hard**

_Chapter Two_

* * *

The café was a quaint little place, nestled between a hair salon and a Thai take-out joint. Nat parked his Corolla on the curb and stepped out, clicking the button behind his back to lock it before pocketing his keys. Rave had given him the address and told him to meet him there at 4:00, which suited Nat fine, for they always had Mondays off from football practice. His last class had let out at 3:30, giving him just enough time to high-tail it over to the café, statistic formulas still buzzing around in his head. Being a Business major had its perks, but statistics class was not one of them.

Pushing the door open, Nat found that the inside of the café was dim, giving him a relaxed, cool vibe. There were little fountains against the walls creating the sound of trickling water, reminding Nat of a rainforest. After a quick-once over of the layout, he spotted Rave at the farthest table, positioned next to the wall, sipping what Nat suspected to be a Chai Latte. He sauntered over, catching the brunet's gaze as he approached.

"Nice outfit," Nat snickered, eyeing the tights and puffed-out sleeves that Rave wore.

"I came straight from a rehearsal," he snapped indignantly. "Henry the IV. I am Prince Hal."

The conceit in Rave's voice made Nat smirk. He pulled a chair out to sit across from Rave, meeting his gaze. "So, I take it you're still a Theatre major then?"

"Yes, with a Music minor."

Nat ordered his coffee when the waitress came over, then he watched Rave's eyes flit over the stack of papers sitting in front of him on the glass table.

"What's that?"

"My script."

"Script, huh? Why don't you gimme that and I'll help ya read lines like we used to? You be Prince Hal and I'll be everybody else–"

"_Samuel_ will read my lines with me."

Nat fell silent for a moment, watching Rave tuck the script into his side bag delicately. His mind continued to linger on fond memories from what seemed like forever ago. Lunches taken from the cafeteria to eat backstage in the abandoned theatre, line-reading for upcoming performances, Rave chiding him when he goofed off, stolen kisses here and there. Nat pulled himself from his reveries and leaned back in his chair, fixing golden eyes on the brunet.

"So, tell me about this Samuel dude. Did you find your Prince Charming, Brooding Beauty?"

Rave shot him a nasty glare before taking a leisurely sip of his coffee, holding the sleeved cup in both hands. He set it down and gazed across the café.

"He's tall, dark-brown hair, long legs. An artist. He paints." Rave paused, and Nat felt threatened for the first time in a long while. _'A tall, sensitive, mysterious artist? How'm I supposed to compete with that?' _Rave's eyes wandered back to him. "We share an apartment in the city."

Nat swallowed, trying to rid his throat of the thickness that was building up. "Is he a student too?"

The waitress delivered his coffee, and Rave waited until she was gone to answer the question. "No. He's already graduated."

'_He's older, too? Fuck.'_

"And what of you, Nathan? Still fucking breaking hearts, obviously."

Nat rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small laugh. "Nah, just... tryin' to get through school and keep my sanity."

"Still a Business major?"

"Yeah. Pops wants me to take over the company someday."

Rave's brows lifted in mock concern. "That poor business is fucking doomed."

Nat snorted, taking a sip of his coffee and choosing to ignore the snide comment. A silence settled between the two, heavy and uncomfortable. Nat recalled a time when he couldn't get Rave to shut up around him.

"We should hang out more," Nat blurted. Rave regarded him with a mildly apathetic expression.

"Should we?"

Nat smirked. "C'mon, you know you miss me."

Rave sighed and looked down at his latte, failing to deny Nathan's statement. He tapped his fingers lightly on the tabletop.

"Like I said, I have Sundays and Mondays off..."

"Maybe I'll just have to visit you at work, then."

With a roll of his eyes, Rave pulled his phone from his pocket as it chimed quietly. Nat watched his eyes scan the text message, and then he returned it to his pocket without responding, standing up quickly. He pulled his bag onto his shoulder. There was something off about his face.

"I'll see you later, Goldberg."

And with that, he rushed out of the café, leaving behind an utterly confused Nat and his latte. After a moment, Nat grabbed the still-half-full drink and hurried out after Rave.

Outside, it had begun to rain. Nat spotted Rave across the street, opening the door to a silver BMW.

"Rave! You forgot your coffee!"

Golden-brown eyes snapped up at the sound of his name being called, and he froze with the door wide open. On the driver's side of the car, a dark-haired figure turned to face him. _'Samuel. Must be.'_

Samuel turned back to look at Rave, and Nathan heard a loud voice, too deep to be Rave's. He was unable to make out the words, but Rave looked slightly panicked by them. His mouth moved, speaking words inaudible to Nat, and he shook his head quickly. There was more yelling, insistent and aggravated. Bewildered, Nat watched as Rave's eyes lifted to him, almost warningly, before he sank to get into the car. The BMW sped off, leaving Nat on the sidewalk with a half-finished Chai Latte.

* * *

It was late Wednesday night. Rave's hands worked mindlessly, pouring and mixing alcohol and other liquids. Bloody Mary, Piña Colada, Kamikaze, Pineapple Mimosas. All drinks he could make with his eyes closed. It had been a relatively quiet night – quiet for a bar, anyway. Rave had been spared of any pricks brave enough to throw a lame fucking pick-up line his way. _'Word probably got around.'_

Business was slow and he was taking a break, leaning on the counter with a hip pushed out when he felt a hand snake around his waist. Out of reaction, he slammed the heel of his boot into the shin of his assaulter.

"Owwww! Motherf–..."

Rave turned around slowly, fixing Nathan with a bemused gaze as the teal-haired male doubled over, holding his leg, face twisted in agony.

"What'd you do that for?!"

"You shouldn't fucking sneak up on people," Rave responded matter-of-factly. Nat winced, standing up straight.

"Can I get a Gin and Tonic?"

The brunet smirked, turning to retreat to the bar. Nat's eyes dropped, watching the sway of his hips as he walked; almost a wiggle.

"Drinking during the season... That's against the rules, isn't it, Goldberg? You do still play that barbaric fucking sport, right?"

"Yeah, I still play. And hey, what coach doesn't know won't hurt him," Nat grinned, pain fading from his shin as he wandered after Rave, the bar counter separating them. He watched idly as swift hands prepared his drink. When Rave pushed it toward him, he handed over a $20. "Keep the change."

Rave's lip curled at Nat's wink, but he pocketed the bill all the same, wiping the counter clean with a damp washcloth. "Money won't change anything, Goldberg. I'm not a fucking prostitute."

"Never said you were," Nat murmured, watching Rave with a wistful gaze. Both were silent for a moment, Rave avoiding Nat's eyes that never left him. "What happened to us, James?"

Rave's eyes snapped up at Nathan's question, meeting the surprisingly serious golden gaze.

"You don't remember?" Rave sneered. Nat winced slightly, dreading the inevitable outburst that he had provoked. Rave rounded to face him, eyes alight with wrath. "Well, let me refresh your memory, Goldberg. Everything was fine and fucking dandy until we went off to university. Then, you wanted nothing to do with me. You ignored my calls and texts, and every time I did talk to you, you fed me some bullshit excuse to get out of seeing me. So I gave up on you, Nathan. I gave up on you because you gave up on us. Ring any _fucking_ bells?!"

A blond guy who had approached the bar in the midst of Rave's explosion stood to the side awkwardly, waiting to order his drink. Rave's eyes left Nathan's, and he took a deep breath before addressing the man. Customers always had to be treated with courtesy.

"Sorry about that. What can I get you?"

Nat lingered, sipping his drink, until the man left with his whiskey. Rave, who was blatantly ignoring him, went about straightening the bottles on the shelf.

"James, we could–"

"_**Leave**_, Nathan."

"We could try again," Nat murmured persistently. Rave was unresponsive for a moment, fingers lingering on the cool, smooth glass of the bottles. Finally, he turned to face the teal-haired athlete, once second short from a headache.

"And what, Nathan? We'd have to fucking start all over again."

"No we wouldn't. We still have everything."

Rave sighed, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Yep, here came the headache. "None of this matters, Goldberg. I'm engaged."

Nat leaned against the counter. "Speaking of _monsieur_ rich _artiste_, what was with Monday? Not too keen on introducing me?"

The moment his words left his mouth, Nat noticed a change in Rave's demeanor. The brunet avoided his eyes, hesitating in his answer.

"Samuel was late for work," he said shortly.

Nat lifted his brows. "Yeah, he seemed pretty _pissed off_."

"He was in a fucking hurry," Rave snapped. Nat winced at his defensiveness. Sure, Rave had always had a short fuse – especially when it came to Nathan – but he usually wasn't so terse with him. Deciding to drop it for the time being, Nat leaned over the counter toward Rave.

"I wanna take you out for your birthday."

Rave raised his eyes, skeptical of the sudden change of subject. "... What?"

"I said, I wanna take you out for your birthday. How about Sunday?"

"No."

Nat was unfazed by the blatant rejection. "C'mon. My treat."

With an exasperated sigh, Rave took orders from the waitress and began mixing drinks. He lifted his eyes to look at Nat; waiting there persistently. Clearly he wasn't going to get anything done if he didn't get rid of the male. His expression softened ever so slightly.

"Sunday. Pick me up at three. I'll text you the address."

With that, he returned to his bartending shift. Nat grinned to himself as he took his leave, exiting the bar and stepping into the fresh night air.


	3. Chapter Three

_Here is chapter three~!_

_I have to place a formal warning here and tell you  
that this story was previously rated M for language,  
but now it's M for smut as well. So, if you don't enjoy  
that type of thing, please skip over that portion of this  
chapter. Thank you, and enjoy!_

* * *

**Old Habits Die Hard**

_Chapter Three_

* * *

The apartment complex looked like it belonged in the upscale, wealthy part of Los Angeles. It was luxurious, and Nat felt slightly out of place as he pulled up and parked in a spot, letting the car idle for a moment. He dialed Rave's number and cut the engine, stepping out of his car to stand by the hood, listening to the ring of his cellphone.

"Hello?"

"I'm here," Nat murmured, smiling slightly at the sound of Rave's voice.

"Be right down."

Nat tucked his phone away, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He hoped he at least looked decent; he'd dug up a pair of old black slacks out of his dresser, and a dark blue denim button-up completed his look. He'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and even combed his hair into obedience.

Finally, Rave appeared at the door, pushing it open and striding toward him. He wore plain navy skinny jeans and a brown, button-up coat, complete with a tan wool scarf thrown around his neck. His hair was, once again, pulled back into a ponytail. Nat perked up slightly at the sight of him, pushing off from the car as Rave approached.

"Hey." Nat offered a small smile. Golden-brown eyes swept over his figure, giving him a slow once-over, and Nat felt as if he was standing before a possible boss for a job interview. Finally, Rave spoke.

"I'm surprised, Goldberg. You look presentable."

Nat chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment. And hey, I got all dressed up for you babe," he retorted, stepping backward. "C'mon, or we'll be late for our reservation," he murmured, ignoring Rave's glare in response to his pet-name, which dissipated with his final words.

"Reservation?"

Nat grinned at the brunet as they got into the car. "Yep. Dinner."

"Where?"

"That's a surprise. By the way, happy birthday." Nat reached into the backseat, producing a bouquet of soft, pink tulips. Rave eyed them for a moment too long, and Nat began to doubt his choice of flowers. "Tulips _are_ still your favorite, right?"

Rave smirked, taking the flowers. "Yes."

Nat turned the key in the ignition, starting the car. As he glanced in his rearview mirror, he saw Rave lower his head to inhale the scent of the tulips with his peripheral vision.

They drove for fifteen minutes or so before they reached the inner city district. Through a few lights, two stop signs, and they turned into the parking lot of the restaurant. Nat glanced at Rave, anxious to see his reaction. The brunet looked skeptical, gazing out the window.

"You can afford this?"

Nat snickered as he pulled into a parking spot. "Not exactly the reaction I was expecting."

The couple got out of the car and walked up to the building. Nat grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, stepping aside, and Rave scoffed at him as he passed by. Grinning, Nat followed Rave into the dim restaurant, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Nat's stomach grumbled at the scent of delicious food, and he realized just how hungry he really was. He caught the eye of the blonde at the podium.

"Reservation for Goldberg," he said smoothly, a smirk fitted upon his lips. The young woman, obviously smitten by Nathan's natural charm, led them to their table. Nat followed Rave to their booth, and they sat across from each other, Rave removing his scarf and placing it on the seat beside him. Nat glanced at their server; a relatively tall brunet with black-framed glasses and a cute, shy smile. He looked younger than the both of them.

"Welcome! I'm Gavin, and I'll be your server today. Can I get your guys some drinks?"

"A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc," Rave said promptly.

"Just a Mountain Dew for me."

Rave shot him an incredulous glare as their waiter left with their drink requests. "Really? A fucking soda?"

Nat smirked, jabbing a thumb at his own chest. "Designated driver, here. Besides, this's _your_ birthday dinner. Drink 'til your heart's content."

With a roll of his eyes, Rave composed himself as the waiter returned with two glasses and a bottle. Gavin popped the cork out of the wine bottle and left with the promise of returning soon to take their orders.

"So, what's it like, bein' 22?"

Rave lifted his glass to his lips after pouring a bit into it. "Not any different than being fucking 21."

Nat snickered, watching him take a sip of the wine, nose wrinkling slightly at the taste. He really didn't seem to have changed much at all. He was still snarky, still sarcastic as hell, and he still acted as though he owned the town. Though, there was one thing different...

"So, what's with your hair?"

Rave's eyes snapped up from his menu, fixing on Nathan. "... Excuse me?"

A smirk fit itself upon Nat's lips. "Y'know, the streaks. Did you really miss me that much, _Princess_?"

Golden-brown eyes narrowed into slits. "Fuck off, Nathan," he spat, promptly lifting the menu up to shield himself from Nat's view. With a chuckle, Nat looked down at his own menu, eyes skimming all the possible combinations of dishes and sides.

"Have we decided yet?" Gavin prompted, reappearing with a pen and ticket pad in his hand. Rave closed his menu.

"I'll have the Black Bean Vegetarian Chili, with a side of corn bread." Rave handed over his menu to Gavin, eyes sweeping over to look at Nathan.

"And for you, sir?"

Nat almost laughed at the prospect of being called _sir_, but he ordered instead. "I'll have an 8oz. Rib-Eye Steak with garlic potatoes."

"And how would you like that cooked?"

"Medium rare's good."

Thanking them, Gavin took their menus and departed, leaving them alone at their table once more. Rave looked considerably less agitated than before.

"So, are you going to stick around this time? Or should I expect you to disappear sometime soon?"

Nat gazed across the table at Rave. The words hit home, and his chest immediately began to ache. He lowered his eyes, unsure of how to answer the question.

"Nah, I'm here to stay," he finally mustered. "No disappearing acts for me," he laughed awkwardly, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck.

Rave lowered his eyes to take a sip of his wine. Once he placed it back on the table, he spoke quietly. "I didn't want to give up on you, you know. I didn't have a choice. You wouldn't fucking answer any of my texts or phone calls." He turned dark golden eyes on him. "I left you countless voicemails."

"Yeah, I remember," Nat winced. "I was an asshole, Rave. You didn't deserve that."

"It doesn't matter now."

Nat paused, gazing at the brunet hesitantly. "... How did you meet him?"

"One of my freshman courses took a trip to a local gallery. He was there, showing off some of his art." Rave's smile was slightly distant. "He gave me his number and we went from there."

"He seems... perfect," Nat mumbled, unable to keep the defeated tone from his voice. Rave regarded him with a perturbed look.

"Nobody's perfect, Nathan."

Before Nat could ask what he meant, Gavin arrived at the table with their food, setting the plates down in front of them. Nat dug in, thankful for the distraction, and Rave scoffed in revulsion at the pink, slightly bloody center of the steak.

"Did you really have to order the most fucking disgusting thing on the menu and eat it in front of me?"

Nat snickered, shoving a piece of the juicy meat into his mouth. "Steak is delicious," he declared muffedly. Rave's nose wrinkled as he recoiled, fixing his gaze on his own food and trying to ignore Nathan's abhorrent table manners. Nat grinned. _'Just like old times.'_

"How's being a Broadway star goin'?"

Rave paused in mid-sip of his wine and swallowed, setting the glass back down. "I've been in several plays during the past two years. Henry the IV is my first lead role."

"Yeah? When's the premiere?"

"May 12th."

"I'll have to come see it," Nat mused over a bite of mashed potatoes.

"Please, Goldberg. As if you truly care for Shakespeare?"

"Are you kidding? As if I would pass up the opportunity to see you in tights?!"

Rave cracked a contagious smile, and Nat laughed aloud, his half-eaten steak momentarily forgotten. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the brunet until he'd spent some actual time with him. It was as easy as breathing, being in his company once more. Just the two of them, like this. It took some effort to remember that he would be taking Rave back to his fiancé, when Nathan was once the object of his petty affections. How had Rave managed to move on so smoothly when Nat, himself, had never truly forgotten what they'd had? It seemed so opposite: Nat was always the ladies' man; he had always been more likely to be the one who would move on and leave Rave behind, not the other way around. _'But that was how it went down in the first place,'_ he reminded himself. He was the one who went off to college and avoided talking to Rave.

"Goldberg!"

Nat jumped, startled by Rave's sharp, sudden voice breaking into his reverie. The brunet was regarding him with an expectant – yet moderately amused – expression. "Off in dream-land again? Am I that fucking boring?"

"I was thinkin' about high school. Remember rehearsing for the Peter Pan performance?"

Rave lowered his gaze to his nearly finished chili. "Backstage during lunches?" Nat could've sworn he saw a pink tint upon olive cheeks.

"Yeah. I was your Wendy," Nat grinned.

"I don't remember much of that time being spent on actual line-reading."

"You knew all of your lines anyway. You probably still remember them now."

"Tink, how can I save you? You think you would get well again if children believed in fairies? If you believe, clap your hands!"

The two broke into laughter at Rave's reiteration, Nat taking a sip of his Mountain Dew and enjoying the lingering smile upon Rave's face. He lifted his wine glass to his lips, polishing off his second glass. Nat watched the way his tongue traced across those soft lips.

"Shall we go?"

Nat smirked and flagged Gavin down for the check as Rave gathered up his scarf and wine bottle. The bill was just over $40, so Nat handed the teen a fifty dollar bill. "Keep the change." With a wink, he turned to follow Rave out of the restaurant.

The drive back to Rave's apartment was filled with more lighthearted banter. Nat enjoyed Rave's company even more after the brunet had consumed a few drinks; it loosened him up and made it easier to have a conversation with him.

"Want me to walk you up?" Nat asked, pulling into the same parking spot as before.

"Yes." Rave, clutching his wine bottle, opened the door and got out.

"Don't forget your flowers," Nat murmured, snatching them from the backseat and slamming his door shut, hastily leaving it unlocked and jogging to catch up with Rave.

The duo climbed the stairs, Rave leading the way down the hallway. He stopped in front of a door labeled **232** and fished a key from his pocket, unlocking it and pushing it open.

"What d'you wanna do with these?"

Rave turned. "Give them here," he murmured softly, taking the bouquet of tulips from Nat. "Hold on a moment." Rave retreated into his apartment, leaving the door open, and Nat stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. He watched Rave set the vase and bottle on a kitchen counter, then remove his coat and toss it onto the couch, revealing a soft gray sweater. He approached Nathan once more.

"Thank you for dinner."

Nat flashed a grin at him; it wasn't often that Rave expressed genuine gratitude. "Happy birthday," Nat murmured. Something shone in Rave's eyes, but he dropped his head before Nat could determine what it was. "When can I see you again?"

Rave shifted to lean against the frame of the door. "Right now."

Nat smirked, drawn in by the hooded gaze. _'Bedroom eyes. He's always had 'em.'_ "Tomorrow, then? You're off, yeah?" he questioned, tilting his head to the side ever-so-slightly.

Golden-brown eyes rose, gazing at him through dark lashes, and Nat was thrown by the look, frozen to the spot.

"Who said tonight was over?"

Mere seconds after the words left his mouth in a low tone, Rave lifted his hands to grab the fabric of Nat's button-up. Before Nat could even remotely react, he was yanked forward and lips crashed into his.

Rave tasted of wine and smelled like oak. Hands were clutching at his chest eagerly, soft lips moving languidly with his own, molding against them. Nat wasn't really aware of Rave pushing the door shut, but once he noticed it _was_ shut, he grabbed Rave's shoulders and physically turned him, flipping them around and pushing the brunet against the door. He pinned him there as his tongue parted Rave's lips, the sharp, lingering taste of alcohol hitting his taste buds full-force. The lithe body writhing against his own spurred him on, and his teeth ensnared Rave's lower lip, earning a desperate whimper from the other. They parted, harsh breath the only sound in the apartment for a short span of time.

"Damn, did I miss that."

With a small noise in the form of _"tch",_ Rave grabbed Nat's wrist and pulled him from the entryway. Through another door and they arrived in a spacious bedroom. A wall of books sat on the left, an easel in the furthest corner, and a king-sized bed with its headboard against the right wall.

Rave's hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt once more, just below his collar, and lips met his again. The kiss was slower this time; more sensual and passionate, and Nat's hands wandered over the planes of Rave's body, following each curve and dip beneath the cloth of Rave's sweater. God, how he had missed touching him.

Before Nat realized where Rave's hand was even headed, the brunet was palming his hardening cock through his pants fearlessly. Nat groaned as Rave fumbled with the button of his slacks.

"Rave, should you really be doin' this?" he murmured, watching his own pants being tugged down from his thighs, along with the briefs, to pool around his ankles. Rave's body followed the action, knees coming to rest on the wood of the floor. Nat wanted this – _**fuck**_, did he want this – but he certainly didn't want a more sober Rave hating him tomorrow. He watched Rave eye his already leaking cock.

"Just stop fucking talking, Goldberg."

With that, Rave's slender fingers wrapped around the base, his touch pleasantly cool, and a tongue darted out to taste the precum from the tip. A strained whimper fell from Nat's mouth at the combination of the sight and the feel. Without much hesitation, Rave took the head between his lips, devious tongue getting right to work. Nat's head tipped back, eyes slipping shut as they rolled up and he uttered a moan of pleasure. It felt even better than he remembered. Once of his hands lifted to thread fingers through burgundy locks, and he was pleasantly surprised when Rave didn't swat his hand away.

After just a few short minutes, Nat's knees felt as if they would buckle underneath his weight. Panting in the stale air of the dim bedroom, Nat's fingers tightened in Rave's hair warningly, but the actor didn't pull away. Unable to stop it, Nat's orgasm hit him like a tsunami, washing over him euphorically as he came into the eager mouth below. And, just as soon as it had approached and come, it was over, leaving his limbs to tingle and his legs to feel like jelly. Taking one stumbling step backwards, he flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, dazed. Smirking, Rave stood and crawled over him like a cat to its cornered and injured prey. He kissed him, and Nat didn't mind the taste. In his blissed-out state, he didn't really mind anything.

"Your stamina has certainly decreased. Have you lost your charm, Nathan? Not getting any lately?"

Nat smirked lazily at Rave's teasing words. "S'you," he murmured shortly in response.

With a smug grin, the brunet slithered down Nat's body to nibble at his throat. A shudder rippled up Nat's spine. "After you rest a bit," Rave paused to whisper, "then it's my turn."

Nat didn't have the chance to reply, for the sound of a door being shoved shut momentarily froze the both of them. Before Nat could even comprehend or respond, Rave had pulled him up off the bed and shoved him into the closet with his clothes bundled in his arms. Nat caught a glimpse of golden-brown eyes, wide and panicked, before he put a finger to his lips.

"James?"

Rave shut the closet door and Nat was submerged in near-darkness._ 'Samuel.' _Staying as still as possible, he strained to hear their conversation.

"Where did you go?" The tone was suspicious. _'His clothes.'_

"Just out with some friends from the play. We went to dinner." _'Not a complete lie,'_ Nat reasoned.

"A few friends, huh?" There was a pause. "What are these?" Another pause, this one longer.

"I..."

"_Who_ are the flowers from, James?"

"Just my co-stars–"

"**Bullshit**!" Nat jumped at the loud crash of glass on tile. "Who's in here?!" Heavy footsteps entered the room beside the bedroom. "Huh? Who are you _fucking_ behind my back, you little _tramp_?!"

"Samuel, there's nobody here–" Rave pleaded.

"Then _who_ the _**fuck**_ are the flowers from?"

"I already told you–..."

Stomping footsteps approached, obviously inside the bedroom. Nat held his breath, clutching his pants and underwear against his abdomen.

"Samuel. _Samuel_, come here." A pause. "Listen, I'll clean up the mess in the kitchen and then we'll watch one of your favorite films. Just the two of us." After a moment, the pair of footsteps began to retreat. "But would you take the broken glass downstairs for me? You know how I hate going down there at night."

"... Yeah."

Silence followed, broken by the occasional _clink_ of glass. Nat stepped into his briefs and pants silently, dressing himself. A muffled voice caught his attention.

"Be back in a minute."

The sound of the front door closing ensued, and Nat heard hurried footsteps on the wooden floorboards. He opened the door cautiously, coming face-to-face with a slightly red-eyed Rave.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Come on, hurry." Rave grasped his wrist, pulling him from the closet and out of the bedroom.

"Rave, that guy is a total asshole. I'm not leaving you here with him."

"I'll be fine, Nathan. You have to go, now. Take a left at the end of the hallway and go down the back exit. He won't see you–"

Nat turned as Rave pushed him out the front door. "No, Rave. I'm not gonna leave you here with–"

"I can fucking take care of myself, Nathan."

Rave's words were firm, but his expression didn't match and his hands trembled. Nat met his uneasy gaze. "You sure?"

"... Yes."

Nat hesitated only a moment longer before leaning forward and capturing those soft, thin lips in one last kiss. "Bye James," he whispered. He turned, following Rave's directions, and made his way down the stairs. Lingering at the back of the building for a few extra minutes, he finally headed across the grass to the lot where his car was parked.

He knew he should have been expecting something like this. Rave was right; perfect guys didn't exist. He slid into the driver's seat, shutting the door behind him, and inhaled deeply.

'_I'm gonna need a beer or two tonight.'_


End file.
